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a seat at the table
In the sixth grade, my teacher read a story I wrote and she offered me the chance to share it to our class. I sat in the front row of all the desks, overly aware that my crush was a mere few feet away. I opened my bright blue marble composition notebook on my lap,…
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rambler at heart
I don’t know what to say, other than the journey has been weary. To come to a place where I still yearn to tell a story, any story, perhaps even my story…I will not leave this place soon. There has always been a desire within me to capture an audience’s attention with a good story.…
a scribble of jo 